


What Are Friends For

by sallymalik



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: About Alex au, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Lots of Friends with Lots of Benefits, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, The Big Chill au, Trans Ben Hanscom, Trans Male Character, no pennywise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymalik/pseuds/sallymalik
Summary: Stanley Uris' bath doesn't go quite as planned. The lucky seven reunites to take care of an old friend. Memories resurface over a spring weekend in Atlanta, Georgia.Based off of The Big Chill & About Alex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta'd. Watched Big Chill for the first time, then rewatched About Alex, and figured this would make a really good AU. Comment and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Slight Stranger Things crossover because Beverly loves women.

Stanley Uris owned plenty of nice clothes. Suits inherited from his father and suits specially tailored, silk shirts from department stores, expensive designer ties, even brand new Italian loafers. His accounting job had paid well – and Stan _was_ good at it – he was on a fast track to six figures at the tender age of twenty-seven. His pink slip had shocked the whole department, including is boss, who had nearly begged him to stay. But that didn’t change anything.

He’d moved out of the city, up to a fixer-upper in south Georgia, far away from Atlanta. He said he needed some time to figure himself out, figure out what he wanted from life. What he wanted was the sound of a running bath in house where everything could be kept in order. What he wanted was a break from dirt and noise.

Now he stood, here, in his nice clothes, watching the bathtub fill with lukewarm water. He clutched his phone tightly in his hand, knuckles turning white against a black case. In his other hand, he held an article from an old magazine. It was somewhat crumpled and worn, but legible. A short horror story about a boy and the monster in his basement. _The Dark, by William Denbrough_.

He held down his home-button, one last fail-safe attempt at a way out.

“Call Bill Denbrough.” He said, softly, under the roar of the tub.

 _Sorry, I didn’t quite get that_.

He could try again. He could – he could try anyone. The tub was full. He turned off the water and set his phone safely on the windowsill, just above the porcelain rim. Stan entered shoes first. Once submerged, he reached for his phone.

Stanley Uris – @Stan_Uris 8:43 PM ETC

       The turtle could not help us.

He dropped his phone and reached for his razor.

 

_Chapter Two…_

The words stared back at Bill through a blue computer screen. His short stories had been a success, published across various magazines and websites. He was good at flash fiction, he knew this, like his teachers in college had all known this and encouraged him to continue that path. But flash was only good for so much, and Mike only got so much income from the farm. No – it wasn’t about the money. He had to remind himself of that. It was about writing something that meant something, that would mean something, that wouldn’t just disappear after he was done.

He typed a single _The_ and hoped it would start something in him. Instead, it simply sat there, limp and lifeless. _The…The…The…_ Bill was brought out of it by a sudden vibration from his back pocket. Mike must be on the way home. He reached to see it was Stan. Calling. Again. He must have called ten times that week, asking questions about Mike, about the book, bringing up old memories. Bill was patient. Bill cared. But Bill wasn’t sure he cared enough to answer another meaningless call from someone just wishing to pass time.

Fuck it. He picked up, against his better judgement.

“Stan, I’m kind of busy, what’s up –” But the other voice on the end of the line wasn’t Stan. It was somehow stiffer and colder, and Bill could sense the bad news from a block away.

“Yes, this is him.”

 

“ _Where_ is my Macchiato?”

The hostility in the star’s voice rattled Richie’s bones as he raced towards her, cup in hand. Twenty-eight and still fetching coffee. What a crock of shit! Richie was a good comedian, he was, he’d played clubs all over town. He was _funny_ and it showed. Some places didn’t even make him buy drinks before he got on stage! He had auditioned again and again and again for _Saturday Night Live_ and turned up with nothing.

That was, until, his writer friend got him a PA job on set for the second half of the season. Richie was good at it, sure, he got all the jobs done he needed to do but it wasn’t for him. Everyone sensed it, not just him. The two-week hiatus was starting after the show ended, and with one sketch left, the crew was growing tense. It was the home stretch! The final shebang!

Richie heard a call over his headset, knocking him out of his daze. “They’re ready for you, Ms. Roberts.”

“Finally.”

Richie started coiling cables before the sketch had even finished. It wasn’t long until everyone had packed up and were ready for the post-show party. Richie’s first had been abysmal. _I should have been up there_ , he thought, again and again, and ubered home to an empty bed. This time he opted to skip.

His phone was in his backpack in the greenroom, hidden away so it wouldn’t ring mid-show – a problem he’s had before. He used the headset for the important things, now. Either way, the job wasn’t for him anymore. For once in his life, Richie Tozier had outgrown something, rather than it be the other way around.

He checked his phone to see four messages, none too interesting – except for a missed call from _Bill Denbrough_. He’d hardly thought about Bill in ages, his old best friend and his roommate, freshman through junior year. Feels like forever ago, going to school back in Maine. Getting his degree in philosophy to piss his parents off.

He dialed back. It was late, but, Bill had only called him an hour before. To Richie’s surprise, he answered.

“Denbrough, I’ll be damned. Butt dial?”

 

Beverly Marsh hated her desk job. She thought she would be happy, working for an online magazine, writing up quizzes about _what your taste in potato salad means for your sex life_ and _choose a tampon and we’ll tell you what Harry Potter character you are!_ But Beverly found herself miserable, a state she knew all too well.

She was scrolling through Facebook when Max, the mailroom girl, approached. She had bright ginger hair, redder than Bev’s ever was, and freckles all over her face. Her jacket was covered in pins and she was always listening to something in one ear, yet she had a talent for never losing focus while having a conversation. Bev looked forward to seeing Max, even if it was brief, because she somehow always managed to make Bev smile. The real kind, not the ‘ _I’m at work and I need to look professional_ ’ smile.

“Anything for me?” Bev asked as Max slowed to a stop at her station.

“Just an Ad flyer. Yikes.” She gave it a cursory glance. “ _Hot Topic_? You shop here, Bev?”

“No!” She flushed bright red and snatched it out of Max’s hand. “No, I was shopping…” She’d never admit her love of novelty geek-wear. “For my cousin. She’s fourteen.”

“Huh. Interesting.” She hummed, very clearly not believing her.  “Who does your ‘cousin’ think is better – _Batman_ or _Superman?_ ”

“Batman, obviously.” Bev answered, all too quickly.

“ _Ha!_ You are a nerd.”

Beverly was about to say something clever in return when her phone began to buzz. “One second.” She held a finger to Max, who surprisingly, stayed. “Beverly Marsh speaking.”

Max watched an eerie silence take over Beverly, the air shifting like a hurricane. She stayed until Beverly was finished.

“You okay, Marsh?”

Beverly shook her head and gathered up her things.

 

Ben Hanscom was a bit of a local legend. Six months ago, a video of him had gone viral on twitter, creating the meme: _Coffee Bae_. Every day for three weeks his regular barista had recorded their hello’s and him ordering his typical latte and complied it into a forty-five second clip. Apparently, as Ben had been told, he’d been so _charming_ and _handsome_ he made girls all over the world swoon. This puzzled him, seeing as in his mind, he was still the little fat kid from the Midwest, getting the shit kicked out of him at every turn. But somehow, someway, Ben had become a minor internet sensation.

He’d forget about it from time to time, go about his life and his job as if nothing was out of the ordinary, until moments like these. He was on the train to his build site, the latest project he’d been hired to design, and one he’d also promised to help execute. His headphones were in and he was peaceful, watching the city whiz by, until he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye.

Two school girls – _catholic_ – couldn’t have been over sixteen, were taking photos of him and giggling. He pulled out his earbud and waved a little hello, which sent them into even more giggles and gasps. With a curt nod, he put it back in and turned his direction away, hoping that might stop with that. He was two stops away from his destination, anyways. He’d push through the discomfort of being looked and pointed at. _They’re doing it because they like you, Ben. They’re doing it because they like you._

The music stopped, and his phone began to vibrate. He grabbed it, checking out the caller ID. _Beverly Marsh_. His heart leaped into his throat. He hadn’t thought of Beverly in months – years, even. It was a solid ten seconds before he even found the courage to pick up.

“Bev, hey. Wait – slow down.”

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was finally happy. He was finally independent from his mother and working somewhere lucrative where he could – _believe or not_ – drive! He hardly ever used his aspirator unless he really, really needed it. _And_ he had a boyfriend. A cute, younger boyfriend. He was out, in more ways than one, enjoying every second of his freedom from his overbearing mother and his closeted past.

He had no clients now, the limo service in its dead moments before the lunch rush. That’s when he ate his food, today a turkey on wheat that Adrian made for him. Delicious! Eddie chowed down and listened to one of his new podcasts when his phone rang. It was Adrian. He put him on speaker.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie said, making sure he’d swallowed his bite before speaking. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m just done with classes today.” Adrian was a fifth-year student at NYU. _Almost done, almost there_ , Eddie kept telling him, _Almost done, almost there_. “The week actually. But I might get called into work. I thought we could go see a show or something. Get some dinner.”

“Sure, sweetheart, that sounds great.” He always waited for the call to end to eat again. Otherwise he’d be spraying crumbs everywhere and that’s no good. Eddie’s car was _pristine._ “How about that French place you like?”

“Sounds delicious.” Adrian sighed.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak again when suddenly another call came through. _Richie Tozier._ Fucking Richie Tozier. What did he have to say? Calling to make fun of him? Brag? Richie had always been mean to him. Eddie was never good with that. But, at the same time, he knew Richie loved him. Not like – well, you know. Eddie _knew_. Richie was a texter, mainly. If he was calling it meant something was up. Or he was bored. Eddie would have to take his chances.

“Babe, let me call you back. I gotta handle something real fast.” He switched to Richie’s call. “

Hey, Trashmouth.”

 

Mike and Bill arrived first. They’d known first, it made sense that they would arrive first – but it didn’t make Mike any less nervous. The place was old, but it was big. Big enough to house the seven – or eight, thanks to Eddie – of them. Mike could tell Bill was nervous too, by the way he tapped to foot and squirmed the whole flight down, like sitting still was impossible. His stutter had even started back to a degree. Mike rubbed his back after he’d attempted to order a _wuh-wuh-water_ from the flight attendant. It was bad. It was terrible, and unexpected, and neither of them were equipped to deal with something like this.

Now, as they settled in, Mike could feel the emptiness that must have buried Stan alive in this place. He had to admit, it was spotless. Everything was organized, the items in the kitchen and books on the shelves were even labeled by type. Stan had kept it methodical. There was something almost terrifying about it. Mike wondered if he kept his mind like this too, everything in labeled little boxes.

“I have to pee.” Bill dropped his bag and headed to the nearest bathroom.

Mike looked for any kind of instrument or stereo. Music would calm them both down until everyone else got there. He was halfway to the stairs when he heard Bill yelp. He rushed to him, standing pale as a ghost outside the bathroom door.

“Baby, what’s going on?” Mike stepped in, placing a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“The buh-buh, _fuck_.” Bill simply turned and opened the door, revealing the bloodstained bath. “Stan.”

Mike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force the image out of his mind. “Close it.” It was almost a plea. He didn’t open his eyes until it was shut again. “I’ll clean it. When I get back, I’ll clean it. Don’t even worry about it. Just – just set up the beds.”

Bill looked wrecked, the tears welling. Mike placed a kiss to his forehead. “Everything will be perfect when Stan gets back. Trust me on that, baby. We’ll be fine.”

 

“If it ain’t Molly fuckin’ Ringwald!”  Richie swept Bev up in a spinning hug, twirling them around the airport lobby.

“Richie!” She squealed, as delighted as could be under the given circumstances. Something about Richie always delighted her. Like a ray of sunshine in the eye of the storm. He let her down gently, and she found herself touching his cheek, as if trying to catalogue the planes of his face. “How are you, sweetheart?”

He took hold of her hand and placed a gentle kiss against her palm. “Tired.” He shrugged, and they broke away. “Pissed. Why the fuck are we in Georgia, anyways? This place is a goddamn maze.”

Bev sighed and shook her head. The clouds were forming again. “Because that’s where Stan lives, Rich. We want him to feel at home.”

“Yeah, a home he almost offed it in!”

Beverly bit her tongue. They made their way towards the exit.

Richie started up again. “I’m fucking worried about him, I am – but it’d have been a hell of a lot easier for us all to get to Maine, right? Stan’s the only one of us not up north.”

“That’s not true, there’s also – ”  Beverly stopped midsentence. There, leaning against the wall outside pick up, was _Ben Hanscom._ The same Ben Beverly had called that morning. The one she hadn’t spoken to in years until today.

“ _Ben!_ ” She cried, leaping to throw her arms around him. He tentatively reciprocated, and Bev could feel him starting to melt. Only three of them together again and it was already so much easier to breathe.

“Hey, Bev,” He mumbled into her hair. “You look great.”

“You’re not even looking at _me_ , new kid.”

That made them both laugh.

Richie cut in a moment later, giving Ben a solid pat on the back. They easily fell back in sync, all waiting for Mike to arrive and shuttle them to Stan’s place. Bill would pick Stan up from the hospital, and they would find a way to make it work. They had to find a way to make it work.

“Holy shit!” Richie interrupted, gesturing to a couple exiting the double doors a good bit away from them. “Kaspbrak brought a date!” 

“Holy _shit,_ ” Bev agreed, stepping closer to Richie. “He finally did it.”

“Did what?” Ben was used to being in the dark.

“Came out,” She answered. “I thought he’d – ”

“Never,” Richie finished, somewhat grimly. “I know.”

Eddie caught sight of them and pulled his boy-toy along with him. He was handsome. He looked younger than them, too, and he was taller than Eddie – which wasn’t hard. Ben towered nearly a foot over him. Bev even had a few inches, too.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie smiled small, pulling them each in for brief hugs. Too long means too many germs and he hardly knows how sanitized – no. Okay, no. That’s old Eddie talking. New Eddie loves germs _! Bring ‘em on_! “This is Adrian Mellon, my boyfriend.”

Bev and Richie shared a look as Adrian extended his hand. As if a single touch might determine if he’s good enough for Eddie. Ben closed the gap first, offering a firm handshake. Beverly next, quick and kind. Richie last, fighting the urge to spit in his hand and say _now we’re brothers._

Beverly watched as Eddie shifted nervously, watching them as if they all might pounce any second. She opened her mouth to speak before Richie jumped in. Eddie’s eyes grew wide fast as Richie put a quick hand on his shoulder.

“I feel like a proud father,” Richie sniffed, before going into one of his voices. “ _My son is gay, and I love him for it!”_

Eddie pushed him off, biting back a laugh as he did so. “Fuck off, trashmouth.”

“You guys must be really close,” Adrian smiled, though Beverly could sense his uncertainty. It was hard to break into the lucky 7. “How long have you all known each other?”

“College,” Ben interjected. “A couple of them – Eddie here, Bill,” A pause. He squinted in the southern sun. “Stan. They all grew up in the same place. But I didn’t meet them until freshman year.”

“Ben and I were roommates.” Eddie offered, fingers laced with Adrian’s. “He was a _slob_ that first year, I swear. Must have cleaned the place three times a week.”

“Except that time Ben...” Richie started.

“Lost that bet!” Bev finished. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten about that. That was so good.”

Adrian smiled, now feeling like he might be in on something. “What was the bet?”

“Come on, guys.” Ben ducked his head, blushing.

“Yeah no, it’s really not a big deal – ” Eddie added.

“You still got that French Maid costume, Benny boy?” Richie waggled his brows. Beverly stifled a laugh.

Adrian felt comfortable to add in. “Wow. So, he – ”

Just then, Mike pulled up in his rented car. Eddie and Ben took collective sighs of relief and stepped towards it as Mike got it out. He gave them all quick hugs and Adrian a firm handshake.

“There’s only four seats and five of you, so you’re gonna have to squish.” Mike said as he loaded luggage into the trunk.

“I call Bev!” Richie declared, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She giggled lightly, though it felt somewhat inappropriate.

“I guess it’s set.” Mike nodded. Everyone was uneasy. He could sense it a mile away. “Bill texted. Said Stan’ll be back in an hour or so. We’re about forty minutes away. We might just beat him.”

Ben nodded. “Is he okay?”

“We’ll see.” Mike said and slid into the driver’s seat. The others followed suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with Spotify playlist! [Check it out.](https://open.spotify.com/user/3w0khdv7ku03uq8mq852bhfdz/playlist/4CnTfUZHe0nwoXMqSlikxv)

Stanley still had not arrived by the time the losers did. Beverly piled out first, hugging Bill before he could even fully exit the house. Richie next, then Ben, then Eddie, then Adrian. Adrian hung behind as the other boys each greeted Bill, a mixture of relief and sorrow spinning in the air. It was about to rain. The grey clouds washing them all out in harsh, pale light.

“The weather here… you forget you’re in the south sometimes.” Mike pulled at the back of his shirt collar, picking at his sweat stained. He was half leaning back against the car next to Adrian, keeping him company. He knew what it was like, to feel outside from the other six. Mike had joined last. “Sometimes it just beats the shit out of you, ‘til you forget what the north ever felt like.”

“Are you from here?” Adrian asked, grateful for Mike’s kindness. He wasn’t supposed to be here. They both knew that.

“No,” Mike shook his head. “I stayed with some family after college. But I had trouble leaving Bill behind.” He fiddled with the gold band on his finger, reflecting cold in the greylight.

“You two are married?” Adrian lit up. Finally, something in common. “That’s wonderful! Eddie’s hardly told me anything. Just that you all were close.”

Mike nodded, but said nothing. They stood like that for a good moment, the two of them watching the reunion.

“I didn’t know Eddie wasn’t out.” Adrian said, quiet, like Eddie might hear him over all the noise. “I didn’t know it was – that _I_ was… I just thought you all knew.”

“No, we knew.” Mike said, eyes forward. “He told us all, once, but he said… well, he said he’d never go through with it. Not while his mom was alive. We were all drunk that night, and we all… we were all close. It was fun, you know, a game, I guess. And he just told us. And yeah, we all kind of knew, but… Bill and I were already together, and we could tell how much it hurt him, sometimes, to see us out like that. We didn’t know when the other shoe was going to drop. When he’d be done with his mom, or his mom would die, or he’d just say _fuck it._ We were all torn up about it. Knew he’d never be happy like that, but we left him go. Better to listen to him than coddle.

“Look, I know that’s a lot. Eddie should be the one to tell you more about it – I can only give my side. But we’re all happy you’re here. Even under these circumstances.”

Adrian was quiet. “I wanted to be there for Eddie.”

“Good.” Mike nodded, finally looking at Adrian again. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Adrian said. “Anything for Ed.”

Mike left him to approach the group. He was quick to stand by Bill’s side and give his hand a squeeze.

“I just think we should take shifts, you know, watching him.” Bev said, shifting nervously. Richie had a loose arm around her shoulders.

“What? Like he’s a fucking mental patient?” Richie pulled back a bit. Bev gave him a soft look and he stayed. “That’s – ”

“ _Well_.” Eddie argued.

“Eddie.” Ben was quick to stop him.

Eddie nodded. “Sorry.”

“We have to be there for him,” Bev sighed. “It’s not going to be easy. It can’t be easy. But we have to – ”

“We w-will. We’ll be there.” Bill said, squeezing Mike’s hand again.

“We’ll make it easy, too!” Richie offered, large as ever. “Somebody can make a booze run, Ben’s a fucking ace cook, I’ve got weed to spare, we’ll make it work. And I’ve got playlists, of course.”

“Wait.” Eddie stopped. “You flew here. Where’d you put the weed?”

“Where do you think?” Richie waggled his brows.

“Oh, fuck you!” Eddie spat. “I’m not smoking any of your ass-weed! You’re disgusting!”

This sent Richie into a laughing fit. “I’m kidding, Eddie! Shit!”

Adrian approached, quickly linking himself to Eddie.

“What’s going on?” He asked, ruffling Eddie’s hair.

“Nothing.” Eddie grumbled.

“Oh, lighten up, _Eds._  I'm gonna buy while we're here.”

Something shifted behind Eddie’s eyes. Like loss. Like heartache. Like something everyone knew, but no one could quite put their finger on. Like it hurt. “Don’t call me that.” 

Richie opened his mouth to speak again, but decided against it and simply inched closer to Bev.

“So,” Ben said, hoping to cut the tension. “I’ll cook.”

“I can help!” Adrian grinned. “I’m a great cook. Right, Eddie?”

“He is.” Eddie agreed.

“That’s nice,” Richie mumbled. “You two childproof the kitchen?”

Bev swiftly elbowed him.

“I think Stan left some pasta in the kitchen. Why don’t you guys make that?” Mike was always a problem solver. “There’s stuff.”

Ben nodded. “Come on, Adrian.”

Ben had his hand on the knob when the cab pulled up. The seven of them froze as they watched Stan climb out of the backseat in his cheesy novelty hospital gift shop clothes. He had a tight white bandage wrapped around his left wrist. No one moved.

Bev went first, wiggling her way away from Richie. She broke into a sprint, but stopped just short of touching him. It took every cell in her body not to hug him. But she didn’t know. It was hard to know. Stan was never easy to read.

“Hey, Bev.” He smiled, soft and small but all Stan. Her heart broke.

_Fuck it._ She wrapped her arms around him, giving a tight squeeze. “Hey, bird boy. I missed you.”

She could feel him gulp. “I missed you, too.”

“Stan the _fucking_ man!” Richie beamed, making his way to Stan. He gave a quick bro hug. He could feel himself over-normalizing the situation, but it was too late. Richie was no good at acting natural. “If you wanted to see us - you could’ve just emailed.”

“Beep beep.” Bev muttered.

To their surprise, Stan chuckled. He placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Thought this might be faster.”

“Still a smartass.” Richie sighed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth? _Oh, Stanny Boy, gimme a smooch!”_

Stan shoved him off, but laughed, nonetheless. He wasn’t jovial, per se. The tiredness was still deep seated in his eyes and the hollow bags underneath them. But, he wasn’t somber either. He wasn’t a man, who less than forty-eight hours earlier, had wanted to die.

Ben approached next. His hug was quick and warm.

“Didn’t I see you getting coffee?” Stan asked.

Richie’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Oh my god. That _was_ you!”

“ _Not_ important,” Ben offered, a loose arm around Stan’s shoulders, protective as ever. He didn’t stay long. Didn’t want to crowd him. Make it worse. Everyone was on eggshells. “What _is_ important, is us all being here, together.”

Eddie stepped into the equation, Adrian trailing behind him.

“Hey, Stan.” Eddie seemed small. And he was, yes, he was short – but Eddie was never anything but larger than life. Neither of them hugged, both somewhat germophobic. The shared glance was enough. “This is, uh, this Adrian.”

Adrian offered a hand. Stan politely shook it. “Nice to meet you. Sorry it’s … in all this mess.”

“No!” Adrian argued. “No, no. I’m just glad to meet all of Eddie’s friends. Help how I can.”

Stan nodded. There was nothing more to say.

“Adrian and I are going to make dinner,” Ben added, feeling Stan might be feeling a bit overcrowded. “We’ll see you in there.” There was a final squeeze to Stan’s shoulder. He and Adrian exited.

Bill and Mike were the last to say hello. Neither of them said anything before hugging him, each piling on to opposite sides. Stan wrapped his arms around both of them, the moment transferring into something quiet and infinite.

Bev, Richie, and Eddie took this as a cue to leave. Bev gave a quick wave and Stan nodded, understanding the need for alone time.

Eventually, Mike pulled away. Then Bill. None of them said anything as they all walked back to the house.

 

“Ugh, get off me!” Eddie whined, shoving Richie off his lap. He quickly brushed off his legs. “You’re so gross.”

“Wow, spaghetti’s finally getting some on _the reg_ and he’s still _this_ uptight?” Rich cackled from the floor. “What a good one! You must not be doing it right. You gotta take off your chastity belt first!”

“You’re such an ass.” Eddie scoffed and stood, exiting the dining room and heading towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, you love my ass!” Richie stood. Eddie kept walking. “Whatever. I have to piss like a _race horse!_ ” He made his way to the bathroom.

He barely had a hand on the doorknob before Bill stopped him, putting a hand over his. Richie’s brows raised.

“If you wanted a quickie, Bill, you coulda' just asked. I mean – I’m not one for adultery, but if Mikey boy wants in…” He started to turn the knob. Bill gripped harder.

“Shut up, Richie.” Bill said, firmly. “Y-you don’t want to go in there.”

“I have to _pee,_ Bill.”

Bill let go. If they were going to play that game, then they’d play that game. Richie smirked, proud, and opened the door.

Which, he immediately learned, was a mistake. He shut the door quick, turning his back to Bill and the door. Bill could see his fists clench at his sides, and then release.

“I’ll go upstairs.”

 

“How long have you and Eddie been together?” Ben asked, chopping what vegetables Stan still had. Thank god he kept everything so clean and organized. Ben had worried about garbage, rotting food – but the place was immaculate. At least, the kitchen. Maybe that was premeditated.

Adrian set the water to boil. “About four months.”

Stan sat on the counter not far from them. He was eating a long carrot, freshly washed in his sink. He’d hopped up a few minutes before with a simple: _I’m starving._ Eddie had stopped in for a moment, but had left with Bev and Mike to go unpack the car and unload into rooms. It was quiet, the three of them. The calm after the storm.

“That’s good. Eddie said you’re a great cook. Is that what you do? Restaurant work?” Ben kept the conversation going.

“I actually mainly volunteer for a suicide and crisis hotline for LGBT youth in Manhattan.”

Ben’s knife stopped hard on the cutting board. At the same time, Stan loudly snapped off a piece of carrot.

“I should have gone to Manhattan.” He said. Like it might be a joke.

“I should – I should help Bev with the bags.” Ben said, quickly wiping his hands on his jeans and exiting the kitchen.

“That wasn’t funny, was it?” Stan swallowed, turning his head to look out the window. He didn’t expect an answer.

“Well,” Adrian turned to face him fully. Stan looked back. “You’re not even forty-eight hours out. I get it.”

Stan nodded and took another bite of his carrot. Maybe he did.

 

Ben hurried out, passing Mike and Eddie with their bags, only to find Beverly, closing the trunk. He looked pale. Bev’s smile faded once she saw him.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ben shrugged it off. It was too late to bother her, that wasn’t what he was here to do. Ben knew the way to get over things was to either study or work. He and Mike were the strongest, they could be put to use. Something in his eyes must have been screaming it. _Put me to work. Make me useful again_.

“Yeah, no,” Bev stopped. “You are definitely not fine.”

The rain was finally starting. Ben felt a droplet fall on his nose.

“I need to finish making dinner.”

“No.” Beverly said firmly, placing a hand on his chest. They lingered there for a moment. The weight in Ben’s chest began to lift, if only by Beverly’s so-called magic. She always had a way of doing that, like she could remove the world from Atlas’ shoulders. “I’m finishing dinner. You do the heavy lifting. We’ll revert to the old gender roles, just this time.”

Ben smiled at that. Bev grinned back and continued, “I expect pastries made for me in your frilliest of aprons.”

Ben nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Bev placed the suitcase in his hands and walked back towards the door. The rain started up, cold against his exposed skin. Each drop felt heavier than the last. _Plop. Plop. Plop_. Beverly’s boots against the concrete. Her hair had gotten long. _Plop._ Long enough that the wind made it billow behind her. _Plop_. The door stayed open and he could watch her walk straight to the kitchen.

In that moment, Ben loved the memory of her more than anything. But the reality of her would suffice. Unselfish, uncompromising, unending.

 

“How’d my bag get wet?” Eddie wrinkled his nose at Ben, who was now sufficiently damp from being rained on in his melancholy. The bag was a bit damp, too, but nothing too damaging. Just enough to be noticeable and lightly stain the fabric.

“Raining,” Ben mumbled, dropping the bag on the bed. Eddie’s eyes widened as he noticed a slight dirt stain on the bottom, but he said nothing. _The germs, Benjamin. You idiot, the germs!_ “Is there room for everyone to sleep?”

Bill, who had been standing in the doorway, shrugged. “I g-guess.”

“Four bedrooms, eight of us.” Eddie nodded. “Sleeping arrangements aren’t looking great.”

“Stan should sleep alone.” Ben offered. “We shouldn’t crowd him.”

“We were thinking B-B-Bev should have her own room,” Bill said, taking over as leader, yet again. They were all slipping into their old ranks. “For privacy’s sake.”

Richie entered, just off to Bill’s side. “Bev and I can share.”

“No.” Ben and Eddie said simultaneously.

“What?! It’ll be fine! We’re buds! Cuddle buds! It’ll be just like old times, boys. Lighten up.”

The other boys shared sharp looks. None of them were ready for anything to be like _old times_. They were grown up now, no longer stupid college kids. They had to pull it together and _be_ grownups.

“ _R_ - _Richie_ gets the couch.” Bill’s word was law, even if he was beginning to waver once again. “Ben. Can you take the uh-uh- _other_ couch?”

Ben nodded, and that was that.

“Well,” Richie sighed, leaning dramatically against the door frame, like some southern belle. “Guess I’ll go be productive and get some booze. All by myself. Alone.”

Eddie, Ben, and Bill quickly did a round of _nose-goes_. Eddie’s finger was last to rise.

“Shit.” He grumbled. “Guess it’s me and Trashmouth.”

“Aw!” Richie cooed, running to wrap Eddie in a big hug. “Eds here is finally warming up to me, again! I knew he’d come around!”

“Please shut up before you make me regret this.”

“Aw, baby, I’d never!”

 

“Okay, timer’s set.” Bev said, plopping onto the couch. “Now we wait!”

Beverly was nowhere near as good of a cook as Adrian or Ben, but she could keep up with proper instruction. The boys – Stan, Mike, and Adrian – all followed her to her seat. Mike had joined before she’d gotten back, taking over where Ben had left off, the need for productivity deep-seated in his farm boy bones. The four of them had the dish prepped in no time.

Stan was somewhat hesitant to lie down with Beverly, but all tension faded once she opened her arms and let him in. They were quick to spoon, the other men sitting in chairs beside them. Bev’s fingers gently raked through Stan’s hair, curls soft and almost bouncy against her fingertips. The two had almost drifted off to sleep by the time they heard Adrian’s watch beep, harsh and piercing through the quiet air.

“Was that the timer?” Beverly asked sleepily.

“No,” Adrian’s face had turned red. He’d ruined the moment. “No, it’s just my watch – I’m supposed to use my inhaler every four hours this week, I’m getting over this stupid _chest cold_.”

Stan looked up just long enough to see Adrian pull a red inhaler from his pocket.

“Eddie has asthma, too.” Stan said, and the room went quiet besides the hiss of Adrian pulling his trigger.

The silence hung heavy as Adrian breathed through the procedure. Then, quietly, he said: “I didn’t know that.”

“He stopped using it.” Mike stated. “Senior year. You guys remember that, right? He must’ve thrown it out a window, or something – he did something dramatic.”

“That’s Eddie, for you.” Bev furrowed her brows. “Feels like such a blur, sometimes.”

“I remember.” Stan spoke, quiet from his spot in Beverly’s arms. “It wasn’t actual medicine. It was water … like placebo. It was a placebo, his mom– ”

Mike shook his head, a laugh caught in his throat. How could he ever forget Sonia Kaspbrak? The boys had all been suitemates at some point, and of course, Sonia had left move in day lecturing Eddie in the hallway about how _I don’t trust these new boys, Eddie Bear. We’ll get you a new room. I’ll call the dean and get you a single! They’re dirty, Eddie, they’ll get you sick!_

Now that he thought about it, that was the year everything had truly started between the seven of them. All those parties in their common room, Bev technically living just across the hall, but really living on Bill and Richie’s floor.

“A real piece of work.” Mike mumbled.

“You guys sure care a lot about Eddie.” Adrian said carefully, as if his care didn’t quite measure up yet. And he knew. He knew, somewhere deep rooted-in him, it didn’t.

“We care about everyone,” Bev said, smoothing the tops of Stan’s curls. “We’re the lucky seven. We’re family.”

 

“You l-look good.” Bill sat across from Ben, the two occupying a room of twin beds. “The video was cute.”

“Thanks… God, Bill, I hardly know how any of that happened.” He scratched the back of his neck, still looking as self-conscious as ever. Ben still had trouble adjusting to his “new self”, the self that everyone else saw, the version so different from what Ben looks at in the mirror. “I got that surgery I was saving up for. No more binder. No more sweating through my clothes. Guess it paid off.”

Bill smiled, having nothing really to say to that. He always thought Ben was handsome, from the moment he met him in their shitty little dining hall, Ben asking if he could join Bill and Richie with all the kindness in the world. Bill could visualize it, like that scene in the Grinch, he and Richie’s hearts growing three sizes bigger just from one look at that messy hair and boyish smile.

“How’s the book?” Ben asked, sensing an adoration he was not sure he was equipped to handle.

Bill shook his head, fists bunching the fabric of his jeans. “Not h-happening. Not l-like I want it to, I m-mean. I f-finished chapter wuh-one and it’s n-not even good, it’s just done.”

“How long have you been stuttering again, Bill?”

“Y-yesterday.”

Ben knows why. He doesn’t continue to ask.

“You and Mike seem real happy, man. I’m happy for you two.”

“We are.” Not the whole truth, but enough for Bill to feel comfortable lying. It’s been different, since they graduated, since they all began to drift. “You should t-talk to Bev.”

“About what?” Ben blinked, suddenly feeling very caught. Like a deer in the headlights.

“Y-you know.” Bill shook his head. “That you’re in love with her.”

“We were all in love with her.”

“Y-yeah,” He nodded, a bit solemn. Things had changed. There was no rewinding that. “We were.”

 

“Ugh, Richie, turn this shit down!” Eddie reached for the knob before Richie swatted him away, blasting alternative through Stan’s aux.

“No can do, Eddie Spaghetti.” He turned it three notches up, to Eddie’s dismay. “This is a bop!”

“God, I hate you, sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.”

They pulled into the liquor store parking lot, Richie finally shutting off his blasting music. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. The brief silence that followed felt heavenly. Less than six hours and Eddie was already semi-sick of Richie’s blabbering. Not because it was particularly annoying, no, he’s heard worse – it’s that it’s not real. He’s putting up a front to impress them. Eddie knows that all too well, the real Richie buried under layers of fear, and anger, and restlessness, manifesting as quick, sharp bites and overstepping. It’s not the jokes that get him, not the chucks, it’s the level to which he’s on.

But then again, Eddie hadn’t seen him in years. He didn’t know how far the dial has been turned.

The two entered quietly, Eddie swooping up a basket and making a b-line for his normal party selection. He grabbed a twelve pack, vodka, two bottles of red wine, and Bailey’s. Richie picked up a strawberry daquiri mix and silently put it the basket.

“That’s my favorite.” Eddie said softly, trying to spark conversation again. The silence

Richie grinned. “I know, Eds. Why else would I get it?”

They approached the check out. The cashier was around their age, large and a little slobby. Richie knocked on the glass counter, tapping out a little rhythm.

“Hey, this is all on Eds, here.” Eddie rolled his eyes while Richie continued. “But, I, for one, need to see a man about a green dog.”

The cashier nodded intensely.

 

“Listen up, Bitches!” Richie cried, swinging opened the door as Eddie groaned behind him. “We got booze, we got brownies, we got buds - let’s party!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is y'all's fancast for twenties!losers club?? This is typically how I imagine them, sometimes just by mannerisms more than looks, but whomst knows! 
> 
> Bill - Logan Lerman  
> Mike - Donald Glover  
> Stan - Israel Broussard   
> Ben - Evan Peters  
> Richie - Ezra Miller  
> Eddie - Jake Gyllenhaal (Circa Brokeback)  
> Beverly - Deborah Ann Woll (Circa True Blood)
> 
> No clue who for Max and Adrian just yet... If you guys have any suggestions let me know!


End file.
